He looked up then, met her gaze in the mirror. And smiled.
Slowly he set the brush on the table. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her on the seat so that she was facing him, one of his iron-muscled legs between her slender ones. His jutting arousal, darkly flushed and swollen with desire, was so close to her face that she could bend just a little and touch it with her lips, take it in her mouth. She wanted to—it shocked her how desperately she wanted to.
What would Lance do if she kissed him there? If he felt her mouth pressing against him? If she stroked him with her tongue, licking and caressing him the way he often did to her? Would he go wild the way she did when he put his mouth on her?
What would that heated, velvet-covered granite taste like? Like the rest of his skin? Like his tantalizing masculine scent, hot and musky, that surrounded her now, making her lightheaded with longing?
Only the long hours of training as a well-bred lady prevented Summer from acting out such wanton impulses. And Lance himself seemed to have other ideas.
“I love your breasts,” he remarked almost casually as he reached down to stroke her. “I love the way they tighten up when I touch them.” His palm was hot and rough, the callused skin rasping over her swollen nipples.
“Lance…” The word was a breathy whimper as she arched her back, pressing against his caressing hand.
“What, princess?”
“You’re torturing me.”
“Maybe so. Maybe I just want to make sure you’re good and ready for me.”
With thumb and forefinger he gently pinched her left nipple.
Summer gasped and quivered.
“Are you ready for me?”
His tone was quizzical, detached, almost amused, damn him. He knew she was ready, she thought dazedly. The hot scent of sexual arousal emanating from between her aching thighs had to tell him how much she wanted him.
“Touch yourself, and tell me if you’re ready.”
She shut her eyes at his brazen command.
When she hesitated, Lance reached down and closed his hand deliberately over hers, imprisoning her in his grasp. Gently, inexorably, he forced her fingers between her thighs, till they pressed against her woman’s mound.
Summer shivered at the feverish rush of pleasure that flooded her senses.
“Touch yourself, princess. Tell me how it feels.”
She obeyed, suddenly too aroused to care how scandalous her action might be. At his direction, she slid her finger through the heated dew gathered between her thighs, over the throbbing nub of her womanhood, and flinched at the powerful arrow of delight that shot through her.
“Tell me how it feels.”
“G-Good.”
“That’s all? Only good?” The pressure of his cupping hand increased, sending streaking heat shuddering through her body.
“No…better?”
“Much better?”
“Yes…”
“Are you wet there?”
“Y-Yes…”
“Are you hot there?”
“Yes…!”